Beyond the Sea
by ferriswheelsinthesun
Summary: When Kurt Hummel is reluctantly convinced to attend the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras in Sydney, Australia, he expects rainbow flags, too many nights out dancing, and days spent reading on the beach. What he gets instead could change his whole life.


**A/N: Hi so this is my first attempt at a multi chapter fic. No warnings to speak of yet, but eventually the rating will go up, and any warnings I have will be included in the Author's Notes. **

**Things you should know: The high school experiences I'm drawing from are _basically _canon. Subtract Sugar, Sam, Mercedes, and Blaine – Throw in a couple extra misfits at William McKinley, and you're there.**

**ALSO, my Santana is bi-sexual. She won't be hooking up with or dating any men in this story, but that should clear up any questions you may have about a few comments she or other characters might make about her sexuality. **

**So that's it. If you read, reviews are much loved, even if it's just something simple.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Duh. If I did, Zach Woodlee would star as himself in every episode.**

* * *

_(February 2015)_

Kurt was going to kill Santana.

That was the only thought that ran through the brunette's head as he glared at the tacky pink decorations littering the airline counter. Large bubble writing loudly proclaimed that this was New Zealand Air Flight 142, also known as the 'Pink Flight'. It was headed to Sydney, Australia, departing from Gate 17 at 10:40 am. Beneath the obnoxious letters stood a certain 20-something Latina, hip jutted out and eyes locked on the pretty girl working behind the desk. Said object of affection looked torn between shock and amusement at the apparent attention.

Ordinarily, Kurt would have found Santana's antics amusing. He might have walked up and made excuses for his friend before dragging her away to a corner, where she couldn't hurt or embarrass anyone. But this was not a normal day. This particular day he was too busy being irritated with the whole situation to care. Too busy glaring at the cheap pink streamers and dodging the attentions of the pink spandex clad Queens who were continuously attempting to approach him. Whenever this happened Santana would pause in her flirting to throw a glance over her shoulder at Kurt, a devilish glint in her eyes; it would have put a younger, less knowledgeable Kurt on edge.

Or it would have given him an instant hard-on, had he been straight.

But this Kurt had been living with Santana for three years, so when she looked at him, he glared at her; she in turn rolled her eyes, and when she looked away, he sighed and glanced at his watch for the thirteenth time since arriving at the airport. Twenty minutes until the plane was due to board. Walking away from Santana, Kurt dodged another Queen and peeked out the rain soaked window at the waiting plane, groaning aloud at the sight that greeted him.

Santana had better be damn grateful that he was doing this for her.

Kurt Hummel was about to get on a plane that was wearing a large pink boa on its nose. Great.

* * *

_(Several months previous)_

Things had been going well since they'd moved to New York together the summer after their senior year of high school.

When Rachel had gotten into NYADA, Kurt had been devastated. He couldn't help but wonder whether it was ever going to be his turn to win. As much as he loved Rachel, he had deserved that spot, and he knew she knew it too. He'd tried so hard, and he'd still been beaten out.

Once Finn had forced Rachel onto that New York bound train, Kurt had stopped singing. He sang in the privacy of his room, but he stopped doing public performances, stopped volunteering to sing solos at karaoke nights with the remaining Glee club members – Tina and Brittany would encourage him to sing, but he'd shrug them off, claiming his throat was sore or that he had allergies. They usually left him alone after that. Instead of singing, he put all his effort into making money at the auto shop so he could go to New York. He didn't know who he was going with, where he was going to live, or even what he was going to do, but he was determined to go.

In July, Santana had approached him about a living arrangement.

It was dinner time, and Finn had answered the door.

"Uh, Santana…?" he closed the door a little, obviously hoping to put a little space between the former Cheerio and himself.

She ignored him, rolling her eyes and pushing the door all the way open. She strutted into the main hallway of the Hummel-Hudson home and peered into the kitchen. "Hummel, you here?" she asked, ignoring the startled looks she received from Burt and Carole.

"Uh, clearly." Kurt stood and ushered her out of the room and into the hallway. "What are you doing, Santana?" he hissed, "Why are you—" He paused as Finn walked past, making shooing motions with his hands when the older boy showed signs of stopping to listen in. Finn grumbled a little, but disappeared back into the kitchen. At that moment, it seemed his appetite was more important to him than fighting with his stepbrother.

Kurt turned back to Santana "Now what is this all about?"

"I think we should go to New York together." Santana said, and Kurt almost laughed, but held his reaction in when he sees the look on her face. She meant this.

"Santana." He said carefully. "You hate me. We hardly interacted in high school unless it was required, and we haven't spoken once since graduation. So while I'm deeply flattered by your sudden interest, I have to wonder where this is coming from."

Santana sighed and responded "You obviously don't want to move in with Rachel-Gold-Star-Attention-Hog-Berry, and I don't blame you. That's just depressing. But since Brittany didn't graduate, I don't have anyone to live with. And unless you have a secret prep school boyfriend hidden in your back pocket, you don't either. It's a win-win. We don't have to talk to each other or even like each other; we just have to split the rent."

Kurt told her he'd think about it. She'd smirked her trademark smile and walked out the door, knowing she'd got him trapped.

He called her the next morning and they met up at eleven for coffee at the Lima Bean with their laptops.

Within a few hours they had a possible list of apartments.

A week later they got on a train together to check out their choices, and put a down payment on one of them.

A month after Santana had first knocked on Kurt's door, the two were saying goodbye to their families and getting on a bus to New York. No one would have predicted it, but Santana and Kurt were officially going to be roommates.

* * *

Since he'd missed the September registration deadlines, Kurt had worked for a few months at a tiny clothing boutique on the Upper West Side before starting school for Fashion Design at New York University in January. He'd been attending school there on scholarship ever since, while still continuing to work part time at the same boutique. He was good at what he did; all his teachers told him so. Santana had gotten a job as a singer at a night club soon after moving to New York, and worked there most evenings. During the day she took voice classes – though if you told her future fans that she'd _kill_ you –as well as several basic courses at NYU. She'd recently been picked up by a talent scout and offered a recording contract for a 5 song EP album.

Brittany had moved in with them after a year, once she had graduated high school, and quickly got a job as an assistant instructor at a local dance studio.

They were all surviving as best they could, trying not to get lost in the glowing lights of New York.

Things were going well, until Brittany had decided to move to Florida.

Santana was devastated.

When Brittany had talked to her about it, she said she felt bad about leaving Santana, but she wasn't getting any big job opportunities in New York. She claimed she'd only gone there in the first place because she thought Santana was taking her to where Britney Spears lived. It took her a few years to realize that she wasn't going to meet her idol, and when she did she decided she needed to pursue her dreams elsewhere. When a dance company in Florida offered her a position, she couldn't turn it down.

Besides, she said, high school was a long time ago. She explained that if you didn't get a new unicorn every once in awhile, the old one would lose its horn and not be able to poop rainbows anymore. And she didn't want that to happen to Santana.

Though her reasoning behind the choice didn't make sense, Kurt silently agreed with her decision. He hurt for his best friend, but the break up had been a long time coming, and it was time for Santana to let go of her high school sweetheart and find someone who could better keep up with her emotionally.

After she left, things weren't easy. For awhile, Santana simply laid around the apartment, eating everything Kurt made for her and snapping whenever he tried to talk to her about anything – especially her feelings. She wouldn't let anyone else come near her either. Kurt called Quinn to see if she could help, but when the former head Cheerio had walked through the door, Santana just stared at her for a moment before storming to her room and slamming the door. When she reappeared several hours later, her eyes were swollen around the edges. Kurt quickly averted his gaze and continued the sketch he was working on.

"Where did Quinn go?" Santana asked quietly, opening the fridge and peering inside.

"She left to visit Rachel… You should have let her talk to you, you know." Kurt replied, his eyes fixed on the shading of a trench coat.

"Well maybe I don't want to talk to her." Santana snapped the fridge door closed and slammed the coke she'd picked up down onto the counter. Kurt looked at her now, a sympathetic expression on his face. "I don't need your pity. I can figure this out myself. I don't need you, or Quinn, or anyone else." She paused, adding "And I especially don't need _Brittany._" She sneered the last word, but a moment later seemed to realize what she'd done. Her eyes widened slightly.

"Santana…" Kurt set down his pencil and started to stand, but before he could finish the movement – what he was going to do, he wasn't sure – she was gone, dark hair whipping behind her as she grabbed her coat and flew out the front door.

Kurt sighed and sat back down. He wanted to follow her, but experience told him that it was better to let her figure things out on her own time than to try to push her into feeling better; she'd softened somewhat since high school, but still put up a fiercely independent front. She didn't need anyone. Santana Lopez could figure her own shit out.

She didn't come home that night.

* * *

Something changed in her over the next few weeks. Kurt didn't ask where she'd gone that evening, and she didn't bother to tell him. Instead, she dove into her work with an almost frenzied determination. She busied herself working on her first album, spending long hours in the studio recording, sometimes late into the night. For her, it was better to put her emotions to use, rather than to dwell on them.

Though they lived together, it was rare for Kurt to see her. Most nights he was in bed long before she arrived home from the studio; most mornings he left the apartment before she woke up. When he did see her, she looked okay, at least.

But sometimes before he left for work, he'd tiptoe into her room and run a hand over her hair, smiling a little when she swatted at him and told him to fuck off. It reminded him of normal Santana, the Santana that wasn't broken.

The tear stains on her cheeks told him she wasn't quite there yet.

* * *

"We need to talk."

Kurt was startled from his thoughts by pamphlets being slammed down on the kitchen table next to his laptop. "Hmm?" he asked, pulling his headphones out of his ears and pressing pause on his iTunes. "What's all this?" He started to reach for a pamphlet but Santana smacked at his hand.

"No. Not until we talk." She set the pamphlets on a chair beyond his reach and sat on the table, swinging her legs a little and smiling sweetly at him.

"Ookay…" Kurt agreed hesitantly, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. "This should be interesting. What's up?"

"I think you need to get laid." Santana stated.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you need your ears checked, Fancy McGay?" Kurt glared at her and Santana rolled her eyes, but corrected herself "Sorry, _Kurt._ Old habits die hard."

"Insults aside, what brought this on?"

"Well, I was being selfish, moping around about my own life, but then I saw the error in my ways and thought about how miserable you must be." Kurt raised an eyebrow at that, so she continued. "Having to go through your day seeing beautiful people all the time? You never sleep with anyone because you work too hard for your own good, and you claim to not have enough time for a relationship. That must be exhausting." Here she levels him with a stare. "Sex doesn't take that much time Kurt, and I'm sure half the men in New York would love to fuck you. The other half are straight."

"Oookay. Santana." Kurt said, standing up and moving to the kitchen. "While I appreciate your somewhat creepy and uncalled-for concern in my sex life, I'll have you know I'm doing just fine." He pulled a Diet Coke out of the fridge and turned back to her. "And besides, I'm really _not _interested in one night stands. So if you're done I'm just going to go back to my work now." He sat back down at the table and tried to put his headphones back into his ears, but she grabbed his wrist before he could.

"Kurt." There was a strange look in her eyes now, one Kurt had seen only twice before. Once when she'd asked him to forgive her for everything she'd done to him in high school, and the second time when Brittany had first told her of her impending move to Florida. The look that says she's screaming for help, but is afraid that no one will answer.

"Is this about Brittany?" Kurt asked hesitantly, hoping she'd give him something – _anything _– to work with before she closed herself off again.

Santana fell into the chair next to him and ducked her head. "I just need to do something different, to get away for awhile. I'm running in circles hoping she'll come back and I just _can't_ anymore." Her voice broke a little here, but she recovered quickly, picking up the pamphlets and sifting through them to find the one she wants "Which is why… I think we should go to Australia for Mardi Gras."

Kurt glanced at the front of the pamphlet she handed him and laughed out loud. "You can't be serious. You think _this _will help you get over Brittany?"

Santana's face was a mask of hurt for a second before she covered it with her usual smirk "Where else am I going to be able to have sex as much as I want for a week?"

"Santana. I might be gay, but even I know that you could have sex _whenever _you wanted. All you have to do is walk into any bar in town and take your pick of the poor suckers who happen to be present, male _or_ female."

Santana placed her hand over her heart "Oh, I'm touched." She said, voice light and airy. "Anyway, this is different. Australians, Kurt. Their accents are like, the sexiest thing on this planet." She paused "Except for me, of course." When Kurt rolled his eyes and continued to look unimpressed, she tried another tactic "Honey, I've seen the way your eyes were glued to Hugh Jackman when we watched Australia, do not even _try_ to pretend they weren't." Kurt blushed furiously and she smirked again, standing up and folding her arms.

She arched an eyebrow, "So, are you in?"

* * *

**So that's the first chapter - Please let me know if you read it c:**

**Also a big thank you to to Nia, Kayla, Tash, and Leo for beta-ing/proofreading for me!**


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